Stone wandered into Ed’s study and found Nicky Chalmers reading a book about Winchester rifles. Nicky looked up at him. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your lunch with my phone call,” he said, “but I thought you’d want to know about Harvey.”
Stone sat down on the sofa beside Nicky. “Do you have any idea why he’s here?”
“None whatever,” Nicky replied, “unless he’s still stalking Carrie.”
“Since I last saw you, Harvey has been connected to the corpse next door to Carrie Fiske’s house in East Hampton. Not only that, he was found in similar circumstances in West Palm Beach two years ago.”
“That’s a very disturbing coincidence,” Nicky said.
“It is indeed. And a couple of days ago, Harvey turned up on my doorstep with a gun.”
“Jesus! I’ve known Harvey since Yale, and I wouldn’t have suspected him of something like that. I guess he’s just crazy over the divorce.”
“That’s my feeling. I managed to get into the house and shut the door before he could think about using it.”
“Do you think that was his intention?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that question. Let me ask you another, one that I suspect you’re not supposed to tell me the answer to.”
“And what would that be?”
“Where is Carrie?”
“Ah,” Nicky said, “you’re quite right, I took an oath not to tell you.”
“Let me take a guess,” Stone said. “Maybe you’ll tell me if I’m wrong. Is Carrie in Santa Fe?”
“No,” Nicky said without hesitation.
“Near Santa Fe?”
“Now I’m getting uncomfortable.”
“How near?”
“An hour or two, perhaps. I’m not sure.”
“Do you know how Carrie and I became acquainted?”
“She told me she went to see you about her will.”
Stone sighed.
“Is that, strictly speaking, not true?” Nicky asked.
“Strictly speaking, no. The conversation eventually turned to that, and her will was, ostensibly, the reason I was in East Hampton when we met. Unfortunately, I’m sworn not to tell you the first reason we met.”
“Ah, attorney-client confidentiality?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps I could have a guess?”
“If you like.”
“Was Carrie concerned about her safety? Specifically, with regard to Harvey?”
Stone nodded. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
Nicky smiled.
“You said, I believe, you knew Harvey at Yale?”
“Yes. We were on the rowing team together, and we were quite a good one. Harvey was an oar. I, given my smaller stature, was coxswain.”
“May I ask, given your long acquaintance, what is your opinion of Harvey?”
“You may ask, but being of long acquaintance doesn’t mean we saw a lot of each other after Yale. Not even at Yale, truth be told, except when afloat. Harvey was then, and at times since, ah... mercurial, shall we say.”
“Mercurial to the point of being unstable?”
“I’m not sure I’m qualified, by training or constant exposure, to answer that in the affirmative. I can tell you, though, that at Yale, Harvey was quick to anger and quick to use his fists when angry. I’ve heard reports from others to suggest that that has not changed in the succeeding years.”
“Do you know if he ever hurt anybody?”
“At Yale, he didn’t lose any fights. Harvey was, then as now, tall and muscular. He may have run to fat a bit over the years, but who among us hasn’t?”
Stone ignored that. “Nicky,” Stone said, “do you suppose that tomorrow you and I might get into a car, take a drive, and accidentally bump into Carrie Fiske?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Nicky said, removing a cell phone from his pocket. “Why don’t I just call her?”
Stone stood up. “I’ll take a short walk,” he said. “Tell her that Harvey is in Santa Fe, that I’m concerned for her safety, and that she can’t have Bob back.”
22
Nicky handed Stone the phone. “It’s not a very good connection, I’m afraid.”
Stone took the phone. “Hello?” He got a garbled voice. “Can you hear me, Carrie?” More garbling. “It’s Stone. If you can hear me, call me on my cell when your signal improves.” He hung up and gave the phone back to Nicky. “Where the hell is she, Nicky?”
“In Abiquiu.” He spelled it. “It’s up north from here, the landscape where Georgia O’Keeffe lived and painted. Carrie wanted to photograph the area.”
“Does cell reception get any better than that?”
“I don’t know, it’s the first time I’ve tried.”
“Will you go up there with me tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, if you like.”
“Right after breakfast.”
“Okay.”
Juan came into the room and inquired as to whether he could get them anything.
“A glass of iced tea, please,” Nicky replied.
“Make that two,” Stone said.
When the tea came it was delicious, and Stone was thirsty.
“May I ask, what sort of relationship do you and Carrie have?”
“Nonprofessionally, quite cordial,” Stone replied. “Professionally — well, she doesn’t listen.”
“Do you really think Harvey is a threat to her?”
“Nicky, do you really think Harvey is entirely sane?”
“Entirely? Who among us is entirely sane?”
“I am,” Stone said. “You are.”
“You’ll have to speak for yourself.”
“Why is it I can’t get anybody to take a position on Harvey’s sanity or character? Not Carrie, not you.”
“I’ve told you, Stone, I don’t feel competent to make that judgment.”
“And Carrie seems to keep changing her mind.”
“A woman’s prerogative.”
“And an exasperating one, too.”
“I think Carrie, in general, seems to want to think the best of everyone, perhaps even Harvey, though of course, she did divorce him, so she must have had some doubts about the guy.”
“In my experience as an attorney, amicable divorces are rare-to-nonexistent. All too often people seem to want to reduce their exes, not just in wealth but in general well-being. It makes them happier if they can make their exes unhappier.”
“I think that’s a cynical take on the human race,” Nicky said.
“A couple of property division conferences can make a cynic of you.”
“I suppose I’m fortunate in my marriage. Vanessa and I have hardly ever had a cross word. That’s unusual, I suppose.”
“Unusual? It’s miraculous.”
“I seem to remember that Susannah and her ex had some issues.”
“Issues? She shot him in the head.”
“In self-defense, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Do you think she enjoyed doing it?”
“I don’t know,” Stone said, “but I was around at the time, and she didn’t seem to have any regrets.”
The party was celebratory, just short of raucous. A jazz trio played in the living room, and outside, at the far end of the deck, a mariachi band of plump men with stringed instruments and sombreros held its cultural own. Ed made a charming little speech about how he had met Susannah; then more meat than Stone had ever seen at one time was served from an outdoor grill that had been trucked in from somewhere or other.
Stone and Gala found a reasonably quiet corner and attacked their steaks, washed down with a spectacular cabernet that somebody kept filling their glasses with.